The Obituary Club

by Barbara Anne Radtke

In some youth group exercise, a long time ago, I wrote my gravestone epitaph and my obituary.  It was an exercise in looking forward – taking the long view. How did we imagine what we would or could accomplish in the world?

I had not thought very much about my obituary since then. I was too busy making a life to record in it.  Two recent incidents, though, have made me think.  In the obituaries of two friends, I noticed errors or inaccuracies.  Relying on how they recalled the stories, the authors, members of the next generation, had been vague on exact titles, locations, etc.  Having worked in an archives where people sought genealogical information, I was slightly troubled by the inaccuracies – like history was being fooled.

Then, a member of my book discussion group proposed that we write our obituaries and share them with each other.  He thought it would be a way we could get to know each other better.  Not surprisingly, I agreed. Only this time, I would be looking in the rear view mirror.

The exercise left a deep impression on me. Like all life reviews, it had its revelations. For example, the most difficult part to write was about my hobbies or favorite pastimes.  I realized how, sometimes from necessity, I had been very work-oriented and my work history dominated the way I described myself. I also realized I may not be the best one to describe those quirks, mannerisms, and whatnots that make me unique. As we shared our obit drafts with each other, I noticed that each member made astute and caring observations to the one presenting about adding certain personality traits, making the narrative of the person’s life more vivid and unique.

I gave the obituary I wrote to my sister Teri, who is keeping my “end of life” documents.  If I predecease her, it will be to Teri that anyone will turn for details.  After an initial reaction, she thought having it was a good idea.  Knowing Teri, I bet she now thinks of this book discussion group as “the obituary club.”

Of course, my obituary is unfinished. I am a learner and new interests keep emerging.  For example, I have taken up experimenting with different art media like pastels, acrylics, oils, and watercolors. The landscapes and flowers I paint are helping me relate to nature in a new way.

These art experiences remind me that an obituary only captures a partial portrait.  No matter how intentional we are, the sum of our life will always be greater than the record of our life we keep. Our most important legacy lies in the memories held by family, friends, and colleagues who have been touched and shaped by our presence as we have been touched by theirs.

Response by Kathy Hendricks

Your book discussion group certainly landed on an interesting exercise. It is one to give us pause as we think about how our lives might be summed up in a few paragraphs. Having written obituaries for both my parents and for my younger brother, I know how hard it is to encapsulate a life with just words. What and where is the focus? On work and jobs? Hobbies and personal interests? Relationships and professional connections? All of the above, I suppose. You state it well when you note that the sum of our lives will always be greater than the record we keep.

I also think an obituary might be multi-faceted if it were written by several people who know us in different ways. If I live long enough for them to do so, my grandchildren will certainly write something different about me than my children, sibling, old friends, colleagues, or neighbors. So, if I were to contribute to your obituary, Barbara, I would certainly affirm the way in which your interests continue to grow and offer new insights into your life and the world around you. In doing so, you keep me challenged to do the same.

And so, dear readers, what insights would you add to the obituary club?